


L.A. LOVE (Movin' My Hips like Yeah)

by peroxideshots



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, American!Harry, Bad Flirting, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Fluffy Ending, Los Angeles, M/M, Mile High Club, Pop Culture, Romantic Comedy, also niall just sort of like... doesn't exist, just cliche after cliche guys i can't lie, literally no smut i'm sorry but there's lots of kissing :))), well implied mile high club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 06:15:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3757561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peroxideshots/pseuds/peroxideshots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Louis Tomlinson?”</p><p>Louis span around at the sound of his name, arms flailing. He stumbled over the luggage trolley beside him and almost fell, before managing to grab onto the metal handle. Oh. <i>Oh.</i> So <i>that</i> was Harry Styles.</p><p>The man reached out to rest a steadying hand on Louis’ biceps, eyes wide and concerned. “Oops,” Harry Styles said as he wrapped his fingers around Louis’ arm. His hand practically covered it. “Alright? You okay?” He asked, voice laced at the edges with an American accent that was, quite frankly, <i>obscene</i>. Why hadn’t Louis realised that the tour-guide of his LA trip would probably be from LA? He clearly hadn’t given himself enough time to prepare for that voice.</p><p>“Hi,” Louis stammered out, high-pitched and squeaky and sounding ridiculously Yorkshire to his own ears. Somewhere to his left, Zayn snorted.</p><p>---</p><p>Or the one where Louis wins a trip to LA and Harry is his <i>very distracting</i> tour-guide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	L.A. LOVE (Movin' My Hips like Yeah)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosieeexox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosieeexox/gifts).



Today was the day. The twenty fourth of March, 2015.

Louis had only been waiting… Oh, about 245 days. No biggie.

He stared at himself in the glow of his light-up mirror and tried to contain his excitement, but of course, that didn’t happen. Three in the morning had to be the least convenient time to get excited. Louis updated his Facebook status and instagrammed a photo of his two suitcases and Adidas backpack, but even that wasn’t enough to calm himself down.

More than anything else, he wanted to wake up Zayn and freak out with him. It was no fun being excited by himself. He nearly did it; nearly knocked on Zayn’s grafitti’d bedroom door at three thirty in the fucking morning, before the streetlamps had even turned on, but at the last moment decided against it. Louis had been given strict instructions to ‘keep quiet, Louis, or you can fuck off to LA by yourself and I’ll have your room rented out by the time you get back,’ according to a post-it note on the fridge (and Louis fully believed it wasn’t an empty threat), so he had to contain himself.

And even though it took all of his strength, Louis had actually managed to keep quiet all morning. He’d gotten up with the help of his alarm (California Girls, just to get in the mood) and kept his ‘LA BITCHES’ playlist to the quietest possible volume while he’d done his hair. He’d even brought Zayn a cup of tea and whispered good morning when he finally heard Zayn moving around in his room. _Whispered_ it, because Louis knew his best friend didn’t function properly until at least midday, and when he’d woken up it had still been dark outside and teleshopping had still been playing on all of the channels.

Louis _loved_ teleshopping. He’d been watching it practically all night. How was he supposed to sleep when he was so excited? And maybe he didn’t exactly have cash to flash, at least until he got to the airport and they gave him his prize money, but at least now he would have loads of cool stuff waiting for him when he flew back home in ten days. Post-holiday consolation gifts. He’d needed a new face-steamer, anyway.

As the minutes passed, the harder it became for Louis to contain his excitement. He just about managed to sit quietly in the dark living room he shared with Zayn while they waited for the taxi driver to ring their buzzer, but it was _physically painful_. Every time Louis so much as opened his mouth to say anything, Zayn glared like his presence had personally offended him. Louis just huffed instead, knee jumping up and down agitatedly as he checked and rechecked his passport, emails, the oven, his hair – everything.

Personally, Louis didn’t know how Zayn managed to be so apathetic, given where they would be going in only a few hours. Then again, Louis decided, Zayn was probably too cool to get excited for anything. Beyoncé herself could be stood in front of Zayn, and he would probably just light a cigarette, or something. Weird.

It was only when they got into the taxi that it started to actually feel real to Louis. His Facebook status hadn’t been liked by anybody yet, so he wrote another one instead of losing his shit.

“Zayn,” Louis whispered across the quiet backseat of the taxi. His fingers quivered as he tugged at Zayn’s jacket, and he realised suddenly that in his excitement, he’d forgotten to eat breakfast.

“Shut up, Louis.”

“Zayn. Zayn, wake up.”

“Louis. Shut the fuck up.” Zayn pulled his hood over his face and turned to the window.

Louis huffed and leaned over the backpack that sat on the seat between them – he hadn’t managed to fit all of his bags in the boot. “Zayn, seriously. Zayn. It’s important.”

Zayn moaned. He opened one eye and squinted over at Louis in the half-light like some sort of angry housecat. “It’s four in the morning, Louis. I’m asleep. I’m sleeping. Shut up.”

“But Zayn!” Louis hissed, tapping Zayn’s arm repeatedly so he had no choice but to bat him off.

“What?” Zayn asked, voice suddenly loud and pissed off.

Louis smirked. He leant closer to Zayn in the back of their taxi, eyes wide and sparkly from the streetlamps rushing past.

“Zayn. We’re going to LA.” Louis raised his eyebrows expectantly and took a shuddery breath, before his face split into the widest of grins.

Zayn just put a tired hand over his eyes instead of replying. He let out a long-suffering moan – it was a sound Louis had heard many times over the years. He shot Louis the middle finger, closed his eyes and was snoring again within two minutes.

Louis felt a sudden rush of affection for his best friend. As boring as he was before midday, Louis had to admit that Zayn was practically everything to him. They’d been roommates for two years since they’d both graduated university, but been best friends for years before that – Zayn had actually been Louis’ first kiss when he’d been 14, simply because Louis had been ‘worried he’d do it wrong’ when he kissed his first girlfriend. And then, two weeks later, Zayn had been the first person Louis had told that he didn’t actually _want_ a girlfriend. Even though Zayn often announced that story when he got drunk in the pub, Louis couldn’t help but adore Zayn for it.

So really, it made sense that he would take Zayn.

It made sense for Louis to take Zayn as his plus-one to his scratch-card trip to Los Angeles, no matter how annoying he was. Louis watched fondly as Zayn’s mouth fell open as they went over a bump in the road, resisting the urge to pull him into a hug.

Instead, he smirked, pressed play on Hole’s Malibu on his iPod, and took a photo of Zayn for Instagram.

They were going to have the best two weeks _ever_.

* * *

 

 

By the time they reached the airport, their flight was only two hours away and Louis had listened to Malibu three more times. He had probably underestimated the length of his playlist for a ten day trip, but whatever. To his dismay, Louis felt jetlagged already and was immensely grateful for the rare rays of sun shining through the clouds when they got out of the car.

His tiredness didn’t last for long, though. He was struck with excitement again when he went to pay for the taxi driver, only to be sent away.

“Zayn,” Louis stage-whispered as they stood on the curb outside the airport, watching the taxi driver struggle with his endless bags cheerfully. “We don’t have to pay him! That trip should have been over a hundred quid and it was _free_ , Zayn. Free!” Louis rocked backwards and forwards on his heels like a child, shaking his head in disbelief. “I feel like I’m on some sort of TV show.” Louis often felt like he was destined for something great – and if winning a holiday to LA was his something great then honestly, Louis could die happy. Maybe he would get talent-scouted in Hollywood and end up with his _own_ TV show. ‘Keeping Up With The Tomlinsons,’ it would be called. That had a great ring to it.

Even Zayn seemed to be getting excited. “No shit,” he said with an eye-roll as he tipped the driver a tenner for the ride. He flashed a grin over his shoulder at Louis, momentarily breaking his cool-guy façade.

Louis was practically _vibrating_ by the time the taxi drove away. For a moment, he spared a sympathetic thought for the driver, whose ears probably ached after listening to Louis tell him over and _over_ again about their trip. Only a moment, though. Louis had more important things to think about. Like _going to Los Angeles._

It wasn’t too busy in the airport yet and the warm early morning sunlight beamed down on their backs as they pushed through the huge glass doors. Louis’ bags took up a whole luggage trolley by themselves; Zayn looked content in comparison as he wheeled his single suitcase behind him, leather messenger bag slung carelessly over his shoulder.

Louis had to resist the urge to run to their check-in, because he knew he had to find Harry, their tour-guide, first. “Do you think he’ll have one of those signs that say my name on it?” Louis mused thoughtfully as they wandered into the airport. He’d exchanged a few brief emails with the guy, but honestly, what did they need a tour-guide for? Tripadvisor would have been just fine. Whatever, though – it was free, and this Harry Styles guy was apparently one of the best when it came to LA.

Zayn shrugged, muffling a yawn with the back of his hand. “Look at your phone? Maybe he’s called you,” he said, checking his watch and putting a pair of huge black sunglasses on. He looked like a fucking supermodel, all messy hair and collar up, skinny jeans and bored expression. Louis’ face was probably the literal opposite of Zayn’s – he kept spinning on the spot, checking all around as though their tour-guide was trying to sneak up on them.

“He said he’d be here by quarter past six at the latest,” Louis said under his breath. He picked at his nails absentmindedly and tried not to panic – they’d only been at the airport for a few minutes. Harry was probably just running a bit late. He was still going to LA. It wasn’t a mistake. He hadn’t been scammed. He had _definitely_ won a fucking trip to LA and he _definitely_ had his plane ticket in his bag and Harry Styles was _definitely_ his fucking tour-guide and he was _definitely_ going to get to star in his own TV show and no, he wasn’t going to start hyperventilating and –

“Louis Tomlinson?”

Louis span around at the sound of his name, arms flailing. He stumbled over the luggage trolley beside him and almost fell, before managing to grab onto the metal handle. Oh. _Oh_. So _that_ was Harry Styles.

The man reached out to rest a steadying hand on Louis’ biceps, eyes wide and concerned. “Oops,” Harry Styles said as he wrapped his fingers around Louis’ arm. His hand practically covered it. “Alright? You okay?” He asked, voice laced at the edges with an American accent that was, quite frankly, _obscene_. Why hadn’t Louis realised that the tour guide of his LA trip would probably be from LA? He clearly hadn’t given himself enough time to prepare for that voice.

“Hi,” Louis stammered out, high-pitched and squeaky and sounding ridiculously Yorkshire to his own ears. Somewhere to his left, Zayn snorted.

“You are Louis Tomlinson, aren’t you?” Harry asked, and holy _fuck_ , his voice was deep. Louis forced his eyes to stay on the man’s face and not to trail down his body. It was a great face – wide green eyes and pink lips curving around perfect wide teeth as he smiled and – no. Oh, no.

“You have really nice dimples,” was Louis’ response. Harry quirked an eyebrow but his smile widened, and Louis couldn’t help but mirror it even as he felt his face heat up with embarrassment. “I mean, yes! Yeah, I’m Louis!” He reached out to shake Harry’s hand, which was warm and firm and almost twice the size of Louis’. “This is my friend Zayn,” he added, putting emphasis on the _friend_ part. It was a long shot, but whatever – Louis wasn’t about to have his chances shattered by miscommunication.

“Cool! I’m Harry,” Harry replied as he shook Zayn’s hand. Louis grasped at the opportunity to check out Harry properly – and the first thing Louis noticed was that he looked almost exactly how Louis would expect a 20-something guy from LA to look. He was wearing a sheer, almost translucent black shirt, with all but three buttons undone, and shiny brown curls rested on his broad shoulders. Black tattoos teased at the edges of his shaved chest and Louis’ throat went a little dry. Impossibly tight black jeans clung to his hips and a pair of thick, muscular thighs and – holy fuck. He was wearing _sparkly gold shoes_.

“Louis,” Zayn said loudly and suddenly from somewhere right beside Louis’ ear.

Louis batted Zayn away, tearing his eyes from Harry. “What?” He asked absently, trying discretely to fan his face with his passport. God, it was hot.

“You weren’t listening to a word of that, were you?” Zayn smirked, his lip quirked up in one corner, and even though half of his face was covered by those ridiculous sunglasses, Louis could tell he was rolling his eyes.

Louis just huffed and turned his attention back to Harry, quirking a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of Zayn. “At least I’m not wearing sunglasses inside at 6am,” he said, smirking like it was the best shade he’d ever thrown. “Are you seeing this guy? Anyone would think he doesn’t want to come to LA.” Louis laughed, over-the-top and embarrassed, shaking his head disapprovingly. His cheeks still felt hot – he could feel Harry’s eyes watching him.

“I’m seeing this guy,” Harry agreed in his low voice, and Louis smiled in surprise, delighted that Harry was playing along.

Zayn just let out a disbelieving sort of snort, probably glaring at Louis from behind his glasses, but Louis didn’t care. Harry said something about getting their bags checked in and finding a place for breakfast, but Louis was too busy staring at Harry’s mouth to pay any attention to the actual words coming out.

When Harry reached over to take Louis’ luggage trolley, Louis couldn’t help but notice the way their hands brushed for maybe a few seconds longer than necessary. He looked up and met Harry’s eyes with a small smile on his lips, finding that Harry was mirroring his expression.

“I’m going to make sure you have the best time ever for the next ten days,” Harry said in a low voice, like it was some sort of secret. He smiled again; a thousand-watt dimpled thing that Louis could only grin to in response, knees suddenly weak.

Harry led the way to their check-in queue, Louis and Zayn trailing behind. For the first time in days, Louis was speechless. He stared at Harry’s arse for a few seconds, then at Zayn, eyes wide as though searching for help.

“You’re ridiculous, Louis. Honestly ridiculous,” was all Zayn had to say.

Louis turned back to Harry just in time to see him tip his head forward and shake out his hair, long fingers covered in rings running through the curls. “I really, really am,” Louis agreed with a slow sigh. He tugged on his t-shirt and untied the grey hoodie he had tied around his waist – his bum was his best feature, he wasn’t about to cover it up. He tossed the hoodie at Zayn over his shoulder before catching up with Harry, ignoring the sigh he heard Zayn let out behind him.

* * *

 

 

The airport got busier as the morning moved on, and Louis found himself distracted in duty free for a little longer than he’d anticipated. One moment Zayn and Harry had been behind him, sniffing colognes, and the next Louis had been alone, spritzing himself with Nicki Minaj’s new perfume for confidence. He still had an hour before the plane was due to leave and he wasn’t that worried about getting lost since Harry had pointed out their gate earlier, so he wandered a bit more, dipping in and out of shops that caught his eye. He hadn’t been abroad on a plane since he was about ten years old and the furthest he’d been was France, so the nervousness was starting to settle in.

Louis texted his mum quickly as he was in the queue for Starbucks, promising he would get phone her the second they touched down on American soil. He thought that he’d left himself enough time to get a Frappuccino and then head over to the gate, but by the time he’d instagrammed his cup, he only had about fifteen minutes to go.

“Fuck’s sake,” he mumbled as he weaved between people, alternating between skipping and walking, because Louis Tomlinson ran for no man, but for LA (and Harry Styles, apparently) he might just powerwalk.

He was breathless by the time he reached the gate, ticket and passport clasped tightly in one hand and his backpack in the other. “Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Louis called as he hurried over to where Zayn and Harry stood, nearly at the front of the queue – had Louis arrived any later, he might have missed them. Zayn looked amused at Louis’ dishevelled state, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief and stopped frantically typing on his iPhone. “They said I couldn’t bring my Frappuccino into the boarding lounge so I had to drink it all in one go and I’m not being funny, but fuck – have you ever tried to chug a frap? Not easy, I’m telling you,” Louis said with a grin. He dropped his bag on the floor and reached into his pocket for his phone, using the reflection in the screen to fix his fringe.

“We were worried you were going to be too late.” Harry shook his head, a look of disapproval on his face, but Louis could swear there was a hint of a smile playing at his lips. He’d undone even more of the buttons on his shirt, and there was a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his gorgeous curls.

Zayn scoffed, moving forward as the queue did. “I wasn’t. Told you, didn’t I? Louis always runs about ten minutes late.”

Harry hummed in response, smiling as he looked through the papers in his hands. “I was just saying to Zayn, here – our seats are business class, so hopefully you’ll be comfortable. It’s quite a long flight, but there are movies and other things to keep you entertained.” Louis chuckled lightly at the thought – he’d probably keep himself entertained simply by watching Harry for eleven hours without getting bored.

“I’m sure you’ll do well keeping me entertained, young Harold,” Louis blurted out, winking at Harry and flashing him a wide grin. Zayn groaned from somewhere behind him and Harry only raised his eyebrows before Louis spoke up again. “But the main question – are the drinks complementary?” He smirked a little, pursing his lips flirtatiously in Harry’s direction as their tickets were checked.

“I fucking hope so,” Zayn muttered under his breath as he brushed passed Louis.

Louis snorted and fell into step beside Harry, who nodded. “All complimentary, of course.” Louis could have sworn that out of the corner of his eye he saw Harry wink.

“Awesome. Because I should tell you now that I haven’t been on a plane in about fifteen years and there’s a fifty-fifty chance that I will hate it,” Louis said cheerfully. He flashed Harry an excited grin as he practically ran down the cold tunnel leading to their plane.

* * *

 

 

“I’ve changed my mind. Zayn – Zayn, I’ve changed my mind. Let’s not go to LA after all, yeah? We can just get off now, hop on a train and be in Brighton by this afternoon.” Louis clutched at his armrests with wide eyes, staring out of the window of the plane that hadn’t even _moved_ yet. “Brighton is great this time of year.”

“Calm down, Louis,” Harry interrupted suddenly, leaning over to reply before Zayn had even bothered to turn his attention from his phone to his best friend. “You’re going to be fine, I promise. What’s ten hours on a plane when you get ten days in LA?” Harry pointed out. Louis decided in that moment that LA accents were definitely the coolest.

Louis narrowed his eyes, looking up the aisle of the plane. To be fair, their seats really were comfortable. It was nothing like the flight he recalled going on as a kid, where all he could remember was just about managing to fit into his seat between his mum and an unfortunately large older woman, who kept offering him boiled sweets.

Maybe some people were just born for business class, Louis thought – if that was true, well, Harry was _definitely_ one of those people. He had his legs crossed at the ankle and his earphones hanging from the low collar of his half-unbuttoned shirt, sunglasses resting on his perfect curls. Sitting down, Harry’s jeans looked even tighter, if that was possible. The black denim seemed to stretch impossibly over his gorgeous thighs and the seatbelt over his lap did nothing to conceal the stripe of skin that ran between his leather belt and the bottom of his shirt.

Louis sort of couldn’t believe his luck. Not only was he actually going to the states, but he was going with his best friend and the most attractive guy he’d ever seen. He’d been hoping to find a hot American boy to keep himself entertained for the ten days, but he’d never anticipated that he would find him before they’d even boarded the plane.

Louis felt his anxiety lessen somewhat as Harry smiled at him. He let out a little sigh and stretched his legs out tentatively. It really was nice in business class – all black and chrome armrests, with slide-out tables. Louis’ seat, in between Zayn and Harry, had a cup-holder on _both_ armrests, and Louis planned to put both of them to good use as soon as the cabin crew came down the aisle.

“And once we take off there will be so much going on to take your mind off it, that you won’t even notice we’re in the sky,” Harry added after a moment. He was leaning forward in his seat to meet Louis’ eyes, smiling encouragingly.

Louis couldn’t help but let his gaze drift down to Harry’s mouth, lips pink and damp and slightly parted, and a smirk grew on his face. “Take my mind off it?” He asked suggestively, eyes wide and innocent even as his smirk grew. “My, my, Harry. I honestly have no idea what you’re implying there.” He inclined his head to stare at the tiny cabin toilet just up the aisle from them and then back to Harry, eyebrows raised.

Harry just smiled, an adorable little crinkle furrowing his brow as he pursed his lips together, an expression of mock-disapproval shading his features. Louis had just started laughing when all of a sudden he felt a sharp pain in his side. He hissed and looked over at the culprit, finding Zayn staring at him with wide and meaningful eyes.

“What?” Louis hissed, rubbing his ribs were Zayn had jabbed him with his long fingers. “Can you not?”

“Can _you_ not?” Zayn retorted, showing more expression than he had all morning. Louis guessed it was because he’d finally woken up out of his weird half-awake state. “I’m not going to be your third wheel for two weeks, you know,” he added after a moment. He crossed his arms over his chest and huffed, turning towards the window.

Louis couldn’t help but let out a little cooing sound as he watched Zayn stick out his bottom lip. “Aw, Z,” he gushed affectionately, reaching out a hand to stroke over Zayn’s long hair. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?” He leaned in nearer so that Harry wouldn’t hear. Not like that was going to happen, anyway – Harry appeared to have become engaged in a deep discussion with the little boy sitting on the other side of the aisle. Louis watched them for a moment, distracted, a fond smile growing on his face. Harry’s eyes were sparkly, dimples blinding and excitement written all over his features as he spoke to the little boy. Of course he would have to be attractive, sweet _and_ like kids.

“ – See, this is what I’m talking about!” Zayn hissed, gesturing between Harry and Louis. “You didn’t listen to a single thing I just said, did you?”

Louis pulled a face, looking up at Zayn from under his eyelashes apologetically. “Sorry,” he said, cringing a little. “Go on, though. What were you saying? Something about third-wheeling?”

There was a little vein twitching in Zayn’s temple and he clenched his jaw in frustration. That was the thing with Zayn – he was usually so chill and had so much practice with Louis after all their years as roommates, but that didn’t stop him getting pissed off at Louis’ endless shit. Sometimes Louis wondered how they’d managed to stay friends for such a long time, when Zayn seemed to be permanently done with him. It wasn’t as though Louis was the only one that did stupid shit though – sometimes Zayn, like. Left mugs on the coffee table.

“I’m just saying,” Zayn started, eyes drifting between Harry and Louis as he spoke. They both ignored the cabin crew’s safety speech, voices low enough that no one noticed them talking. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. I know that look on your face – yes, believe it or not, you _have_ acted like this around guys before – and it hasn’t ended well.” Zayn sighed, settling back into his seat and stretching his legs out in front of him. “You don’t even know him, Louis. He could have a boyfriend, or a girlfriend. He could be _married_. You met him five minutes ago, and I can tell you’re already planning the entire holiday around him, aren’t you?”

“What? No,” Louis said with a scoff. He tugged at the bottom of his shirt, fiddled with his seatbelt some more. After a moment, he let out a long, slow breath. “I really am,” he agreed solemnly, before looking back to Zayn with wide, pleading eyes. “Why does this always happen? Why do I have to fall in love after _two seconds_ of knowing someone?”

Zayn at least had the decency to pull a sympathetic face as he patted Louis on the arm in what Louis supposed was a comforting gesture. “Just… Chill, okay? Play it cool. That means no more mile high club jokes.”

Louis turned away from Zayn to stare sulkily at the back of Harry’s head. Even _that_ was hot. “But he’s so sweet and he’s got such a nice accent,” Louis said, as though that would possibly make a difference to Zayn’s opinion. “Have you seen his thighs?” He added urgently, voice low as he turned back to Zayn. “C’mon, Zayn.”

Zayn’s only response was to give a Louis a stern, meaningful look, before putting on his headphones and closing his eyes. As though listening in on their conversation, the plane started rolling beneath them and Louis’ stomach jolted with surprise.

“It’s okay. Take-off is always the worst part,” came a soft voice from his left. Harry was looking at him again, all soft, wide eyes and comforting smile. He’d obviously mistaken Louis’ disappointment from Zayn’s lecture as fear, because his hand was resting reassuringly on Louis’ bare forearm.

And, well. That felt nice.

“Okay,” Louis said in a pained voice, swallowing hard. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth and looked up at Harry’s face from under his eyelashes, brows furrowed. Louis had played Danny in Grease in his Year Eleven musical – now was his time to shine.

“Honestly, you’ll be fine. I’ve flown this journey countless times. There wasn’t a single moment of turbulence on my way out here a few days ago,” Harry insisted. God, he really did have a lovely voice. His hand was warm and soft on Louis’ arm, stroking circles with his thumb.

The plane sped up and Louis’ stomach clenched with a strange swooping feeling which he assumed meant they were taking off. Louis really wasn’t scared at all, but he was hardly going to pass up the opportunity to hold Harry’s hand. “Turbulence?” He asked, eyes going wider. He jiggled his knee up and down, trying to relieve the cramp from sitting down, but kept going when he realised it probably made him look even more nervous.

To his right, Zayn coughed meaningfully. Louis span his head around and sent him a furiously quelling glance. Zayn just stared silently back, and then the two of them had one of their trademarked silent conversations, before Louis turned away again and Zayn just huffed, letting his hair flop in front of his eyes.

The plane dropped slightly as it inclined – not much, but enough to make Louis jump. His hand clenched the armrest and he didn’t even have to widen his eyes on purpose this time before Harry’s hand was covering his own. He wrapped his fingers over the back of Louis’, the cold of his rings settling against Louis’ skin like they belonged there. The size difference between their hands was _astounding_ – Harry’s long, tanned fingers practically covered the entirety of Louis hand. “You can squeeze my hand if you get scared,” Harry said, smiling encouragingly at Louis.

“I – thanks,” Louis said, lost for words. The intensity of the pure kindness on Harry’s face sent Louis’ heart doing somersaults. He looked genuinely concerned for Louis and for a moment Louis felt a clench of guilt in his chest at pretending to be scared. Then Zayn was coughing again, louder this time, and of course Louis had to send him a smug smile over his shoulder before the seatbelt sign went out overhead.

* * *

 

 

The rest of the flight went by faultlessly, just as Harry had promised. Louis reluctantly let go of Harry’s hand when the cabin crew came down the aisle with refreshments and he just had to buy Zayn, Harry and himself a bottle of champagne to share. He’d won ten thousand dollars of money to spend on their holiday as well, so he didn’t even bother looking at the price of the most expensive one before handing over his card.

“Honestly, I could get used to this,” Louis said with a contented sigh as he and Zayn clinked their glasses together.

Zayn hummed his agreement. Louis thought Zayn looked like the sort of person who should always have a glass of champagne in their hand. Zayn had spent most of the flight so far dozing and staring angrily at his phone and the lack of 4G and signal he was receiving, but the alcohol certainly seemed to cheer him up.

By the time Louis had finished his third glass of champagne, Harry was still on his first. Louis had no idea how he’d managed to make it last so long, considering the fact he’d only had an inch in his glass to begin with. Even that had taken a lot of persuading – apparently Harry took his profession _very_ seriously.

“So, what? You never join in with the fun stuff when you take people on trips?” Louis asked incredulously. His voice was probably a little loud for such a small space, but whatever. Fizzy drinks always got him tipsy.

Harry shrugged, smiling politely. “I mean, I live in LA, so it’s not as though any of the places we go to are new to me. My job’s to make sure you have a good time, not myself.” It sounded a lot like a pre-rehearsed speech.

“Wow,” Louis hummed, shaking his head. “You are so selfless.” He sighed a little, angling his body towards Harry and propping his chin up on his hand, elbow resting on the little pull-out table in front of him. “So, tell me, Harry. How many of these tours have you done?”

If Harry was surprised by the sudden closeness between them, he didn’t show it. He frowned down on his hands, counting on his fingers. “I’ve done about six so far this year,” he said after a moment, nodding as though proud of his own calculations. It was _so_ cute.

“Harry,” Louis said seriously. “You are _so_ cute.”

Harry chuckled and rolled his eyes, but Louis could have sworn there was a flush of pink colouring his cheekbones and Louis felt unreasonably pleased with himself for it.

“So what fun stuff have you got planned for me and Zayn, then?” Louis asked, nodding over his shoulder to where Zayn curled against the window sketching, headphones on.  “I mean, if it were up to me we’d just go to gay bars every night, but I suppose we have to do actual stuff too.”

“We can do that,” Harry replied instantly, voice suddenly sounding excited. “That’s good news!”

Louis raised his eyebrows. He widened his legs just slightly until his knee brushed the side of Harry’s thigh. “Yeah?”

“Yeah! I love when clients are interested in exploring the LGBTQ+ side of LA. A lot of people aren’t interested in the gay scene, but there’s so much I can add to the itinerary now that I know you might find it interesting,” Harry said, green eyes sparkling with excitement. “It’s just a shame that you weren’t here later on in the year – West Hollywood Pride is one of the best,” he added after a moment, digging into his pocket and pulling out his phone. It was odd, Louis realised – Harry looked excited, but his drawl was still just as slow and deep as it had always been. Louis exhaled a long breath, somehow disappointed with Harry’s response, but Harry didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy tapping away quickly, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he concentrated.

“Cool,” Louis said, pulling his knee back away from Harry with a slow sigh. That hadn’t given him much to go on, really. So what, Harry went to pride – that didn’t necessarily mean he liked guys. Although something told Louis that he did. Either way, Louis was going to find out.

Sometime between the cabin crew bringing round a meal of chicken and baked potato and being told twice by the elderly man behind them to shut up, Louis fell asleep. It was probably a combination of the lack of sleep the night before and the champagne that did it, but either way, when he woke up five hours later to find that they were minutes from landing, he couldn’t help feeling a bit cheated.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” He demanded from Zayn and Harry, who could have been doing _anything_ while Louis was asleep for all he knew. The thought was slightly unsettling.

Zayn smiled sidelong at Harry with a shrug. “It was nice to have some peace and quiet,” he said. Louis narrowed his eyes. Harry’s face was expressionless, ever the diplomat, but Louis couldn’t help feeling secretly pleased that Zayn had obviously warmed to Harry.

“This will cheer you up – it’s 82.4 out today in LA. That’s 28 degrees to you Brits.” Harry grinned at Louis, putting on his sunglasses. Now that Harry mentioned it, the air did feel hotter – the sun was shining in through the window, making Louis squint when he turned to look at Zayn.

Needless to say, it _did_ cheer Louis up.

It cheered Louis up even more when they finally got off the plane at about midday local time and stepped out into the sunlight of California.

“Fucking finally,” he heard Zayn say next to him. They were holding up the queue of people trying to climb down the stairs from the plane to the tarmac, but Louis didn’t care – he pushed his hand into Zayn’s and squeezed.

“Fucking finally,” Louis agreed. The excitement in Zayn’s eyes mirrored his own as they grinned, before counting to three and racing each other down the steps.

* * *

 

 

Louis nearly burst into tears when he saw that there was a _limousine_ waiting for them outside of LAX. The driver had a piece of laminated paper in his hand reading ‘Tomlinson,’ but Louis still couldn’t believe that it was actually for them.

“What are you still standing here for?” Harry gave Louis a strange look over his shoulder as he greeted the driver and tossed his bag inside.

Zayn seemed just as in awe as Louis. The cigarette he’d been about to light hung from his lips as he gaped, the lighter in his hand all but forgotten. Already, LA seemed about as different from Doncaster as they could possibly get. “I would say shotgun, but, y’know,” Zayn said, gesturing to the limo weakly.

Louis chuckled, speechless. The leather of the seats squeaked as he slid into the limo after Harry to sit opposite him, hot arms sticking as he settled down. “I have a feeling we aren’t in Donny anymore, lads,” Louis announced as he sat down. Blue lights curled around the edges of the doors and there was a minibar along one side, complete with a glass liquor cabinet and an ice bucket. Louis inspected it for a moment, debating whether to make himself a drink, but according to Harry they wouldn’t actually be in the limo for that long until they got to the hotel. He patted the empty space around himself appreciatively and scooted up further when Zayn followed him in, bringing his familiar smell of smoke.

“Bit different from your beaten up pile of shit back home, isn’t it?” Zayn teased, but Louis just ignored him, too busy fiddling with the automatic tinted windows.

Harry smirked and glanced up at them for a moment before going back to typing on his phone. “Mate, you should do scratch-cards more often,” was all Zayn could seem to say after that as he rested his elbow on the open window and tilted his head out, his long hair caught the breeze as they started to roll forward.

“I really should,” Louis agreed. It had been such a time since he’d seen Zayn smile like that – too long, Louis realised. Zayn had had a tough breakup with his long-term girlfriend, Perrie, not long ago, and although Louis was impressed at how well he’d handled it, it hadn’t gone amiss how subdued his best friend had been in the past few months. Zayn was a text-book introvert, whereas Louis was definitely and undeniably _not_ , which was maybe why they complimented each other so well. But it also meant that it was often down to Louis to drag Zayn out of his comfort zone every now and then – or, you know, to the other side of the world. That worked too, apparently, if the smile on Zayn’s face was anything to go by.

Louis reached over to rub his hand on Zayn’s thigh affectionately, squeezing his knee as he leaned over to check out the view from Zayn’s window. “I fucking love palm trees,” Louis said suddenly. Harry barked out a laugh behind him and Louis turned, eyebrows raised in question. “Have you quite finished?” He asked pointedly, but his lip was lifting in a smirk.

“Don’t mind him, Harry,” Zayn said, leaning around Louis to talk. “He’s just pissed off because he used up all his iPhone memory taking selfies before we even got here,” he teased, bumping his elbow against Louis’ shoulder. Louis’ heart swelled as he watched Harry and Zayn laugh – his best friend was _loosening up_ and _joking_ with a guy they’d only just met. Louis felt like he could leave happily now and he hadn’t even been in the states for an hour yet.

“Whatever,” Louis scoffed, rolling his eyes. He watched fondly as Harry absent-mindedly twisted his rings around – but then Louis noticed what was behind him. “Holy fuck,” he said. “Oh my god.”

Harry’s eyes widened and he ducked away, turning to look behind himself. He scanned the front of the limo, shooting Allen the driver a confused glance. “What?” He looked around before turning back to Louis questioningly.

“There’s a – there’s one of those things,” Louis said articulately, waving his arm up and down in a crude impression of the partition dividing the driver’s seat from the back seats. “Is there a remote for that?” Louis asked, voice getting higher as the excitement bubbled in his chest.

“It should be by the window control,” Harry told him in that same apathetic drawl, but there was a hint of playfulness to his voice, as though he knew just what was coming and couldn’t find it within himself to be disapproving. Louis had always been told by his mum that excitement and happiness were contagious, so to always try to be cheerful. He wasn’t trying to be big-headed or anything, but Louis thought, as he stared at Harry’s dimples, that maybe Harry was particularly susceptible to his own special blend of excitement and happiness. Maybe.

“Driver,” Louis said. He glanced over at Zayn, who had his face buried in his hands, shaking his head slowly. “Roll up the partition, please,” Louis drawled, punctuating the click of the divider going up with a shameless wink at Harry.

* * *

 

 

The hotel was unlike anything Louis had ever seen before. It was big and it was a Hilton and it was only five minutes from the beach, which was basically all Louis really cared about. The fact that it was fucking amazing was just an added bonus. The lobby had a high ceiling and shiny floor and Louis spent ages wondering where the sound of running water was coming from before he noticed the massive water feature behind the front desk, complete with blue lights and little yellow fish. There were a couple of sofas in the middle of the room and a door leading to what Louis assumed was a bar to their left. Honestly, Louis would have been happy to live in the fucking lobby.

“Apparently you can drive from one end of LA to the other in a just a few hours,” Zayn supplied randomly, breaking Louis out of his thoughts as he read off his phone and leant against the counter of the lobby. Zayn had been supplying them with random LA facts since they touched down. Louis thought it was cute that Harry didn’t seem to be getting frustrated, even though he obviously knew it all already.

“Cool,” Louis replied, not really listening. Harry had wandered off to talk to the manager of the hotel and the man behind the counter had taken their bags upstairs, leaving Zayn and Louis to stand alone in the lobby with nothing but the background music and water feature for company. Louis was entertaining himself with the water machine, spooning little slices of cucumber into a plastic cup, when Harry returned.

“Welcome to LA, Mr Tomlinson and Mr Malik!” Came a cheerful voice from behind him. Louis span round suddenly, dropping a slice of cucumber in his haste, which landed on the spotless floor with a soft splat.

“I’ll, uh.” Louis looked down at the cucumber, then back up again. “Pick that up in a minute.”

The man smiled, as did Harry, who had somehow appeared next to Louis. “I’m Liam, the manager here, and I’m going to try and make sure everything is perfect for you, okay?” Liam said in a professional voice. His accent was the same as Harry’s, if a little more muted, and he had an easy-going sort of vibe, but it was one that Louis could imagine he had perfected in front of a mirror. His shirt had lines ironed down the front pockets and he was wearing _loafers_. Louis couldn’t help but wonder when he’d meet someone with a proper ‘Valley Girl’ voice.

“Nice,” Zayn offered suddenly. Liam flushed a little and tugged at his collar. Poor guy. Louis had felt the same way when he’d first met Zayn. He was fairly sure a lot of people did.

Liam spent a little longer going over the hotel and the facilities, explaining where everything was, before handing them over a few brochures to look at. Louis couldn’t help noticing that every time Zayn and Liam caught each other’s eyes, they would both look away quickly, Zayn knotting his fingers together and Liam stepping from one foot to the other like a schoolboy. Interesting.

“- and here are your key-cards!” Liam added after a moment, drawing Louis from his thoughts. “Your room is actually more like an apartment, so you’ll be sharing a living area and kitchenette, but you’ll each get a bedroom and en-suite,” Liam explained, before jotting down the number for reception on the back of one of the brochures and insisting they call if they had any problems. Louis was sure he wasn’t imagining the way Liam’s eyes grazed down Zayn’s body as he handed over the number.

“So you’ll be sharing with us?” Louis asked Harry, tearing his gaze away from Liam and Zayn. He couldn’t help but feel like he was intruding on something just by watching them.

Harry shook his head, waving his own key card. “Nope. You get your own room.” Louis felt a wave of disappointment wash over him. “I’m just up the corridor, though,” he added after a moment.

“Yeah? What number?” Louis brightened, probably sounding a little too eager, but whatever.

Harry was unflustered, his voice just as deep and slow as always. “211,” he replied. He wandered over to the elevator; Zayn jogged from where he was talking to Liam when he heard it beep.

“Alright?” Louis asked Zayn they got into the elevator. His friend seemed ruffled and it amused Louis to no end. More than anything he wanted to take the endless piss out of Zayn for his obvious infatuation, the hypocritical nature of it all – but then they were walking towards their room on the third floor and Zayn’s crush slipped from his mind.

“We’ll meet you at the pool in twenty minutes, Haz!” Louis called over his shoulder as he dragged Zayn up the hallway by the wrist to their room. It was probably a bit weird to give your tour-guide a nickname on the first day, but whatever. He could see a hint of blue out of the window at the end of the hallway, and Louis could only assume it was the ocean, so there were more important things on his mind.

* * *

 

 

“I’m just saying, Zayn, that you only met him five minutes ago. He could have a boyfriend or a girlfriend. He could be married,” Louis insisted, mirroring Zayn’s own words from the flight – the flight which, to Louis’ confusion, felt like days ago even though it had been mere hours. He snorted into his drink, spinning the little umbrella around.

“Oh, shut up,” Zayn groaned, batting at Louis’ arm with the cocktail menu he was fanning himself with. There were the only a few other people sunbathing with them on the rooftop infinity pool, reserved only for those in the upper suites of the hotel, and needless to say, Louis was loving life. It was just starting to cool down, the hot air from the day edging up to the blue sky in a shimmery haze, and Louis had already got tan lines around his watch and shorts.

The only thing letting Louis down was that Harry had never come up to meet them.

And it wasn’t as though Louis minded, not really, because he knew he had two whole weeks to see Harry shirtless, but still. It was a shame. He’d had a few cocktails and a bowl of fancy room service chips, so he couldn’t find it within himself to be too upset.

“Can’t believe we finally made it,” Louis said suddenly, turning on his bed to look at Zayn. They were both getting tired – jetlag and exhaustion seeping into their bones as the sun dipped. They knew they’d have to sleep soon if they wanted to set their body clocks back to normal, but for the moment they were both content.

“I know,” Zayn replied in the same awestruck voice. Louis wondered what a pair the two of them made to other people – Louis with his Adidas trunks and SPF 50 sun-cream and Zayn with his knock-off Ray-Bans and constant aura of artfully-dishevelled indifference. They deserved their own TV show, Louis decided. ‘Louis and Zayn Take LA.’ He added it to the list of imaginary NBC shows he starred in.

Louis sighed, staring up at the darkening sky with a half-smile on his face. Yeah, LA was nice. Hanging out with his best friend for ten days without a care in the world was _really_ nice. Harry Styles was alright, too.

That night, buried in the fluffy duvet of his king-size bed, Louis sent Harry a text. It wasn’t anything special, just a row of sun emojis, fuelled by the intense happiness in his chest and the jetlag mixed with alcohol. The grinning emoji he received not even thirty seconds later had him falling asleep with a smile on his face.

* * *

 

 

“What’s on the itinerary today, Mr. Tour-Guide Styles?” Louis was sat cross-legged on a barstool in the outside seating area of the restaurant the next morning, picking at the leftovers of his breakfast. He had been worried he would have to eat the stereotypical LA breakfast of granola and fat-free yoghurt, but luckily the breakfast stand had bread too.

Harry looked up from his phone to smile at Louis. “Well, I was thinking you could spend today just relaxing. Exploring the hotel and Marina del Rey beach. We can save Santa Monica until tomorrow.” Harry had a fucking _headscarf_ on today – it was blue and pink and framed the curls around his tanned face perfectly. One little ringlet had escaped, flopping forward onto his forehead, and Louis had to fight the urge to twist it around his finger.

“Sounds good to me,” Zayn offered from his left. He was wearing his shades again, of course, and was just finishing his morning cigarette. It was hotter today than it had been when they arrived yesterday and Louis was glad he’d decided on a vest instead of a t-shirt as the morning sun shone down on his back.

Louis smiled at Harry, one eyebrow raised as he rested his elbow on the table. “Any nude beaches around here?” He asked conversationally.

“Actually, yes,” Harry nodded. “I go to one not far from here sometimes.”

Louis almost choked on his orange juice. Zayn patted his back sympathetically.

They didn’t go to the nude beach on their first day.

Instead, Harry led them out of the hotel, towels and sunglasses and all, and down to the coast.  The sand was scorching underfoot, as was the sun beaming down, so Harry made them promise to put hats on and keep making sure they had enough sun cream before disappearing back in the direction of the hotel.

“I don’t think he likes us much,” Louis said, shielding his eyes from the sun and watching Harry’s receding figure sadly. He wasn’t ready to accept defeat yet.

The beach was actually reasonably quiet, just a few couples and families dotted around. Louis supposed it was because they weren’t quite in Santa Monica yet, which even _he_ had heard of before. “Shut up,” Zayn argued, rolling his eyes. “Harry’s just doing his job. It’s not like he’s actually here to come on holiday with us,” he said reasonably.

“I suppose you’re right.” Louis felt a little more relaxed after that. They wandered up the beach, occasionally pointing out things to each other. They both agreed that they thought it was strange how along one side was nothing but ocean, and then the other side was the bustling city.

When the sun started to get too hot they found a spot to settle down, fanning out bath towels stolen from the hotel on white sand.

“Do you want me to teach you how to swim?” Louis asked suddenly, watching Zayn stare into the calm waves.

“Nah, bro,” Zayn said with a chuckle, shaking his head. “I’d rather sit here than risk my life getting eaten by sharks, thanks.”

“You wouldn’t get eaten by sharks,” Louis snorted, but then considered it. Were there sharks in LA? “Actually, you might.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “I’m going to ask Harry.”

“You do that.” Zayn was already settling back onto his towel and putting in his earphones.

**_Are there sharks in LA?_ **

Harry’s reply came only a minute later, his phone vibrating against Louis’ bare chest.

_Of course. You should be fine, though. There’s a lifeguard. And most of the time they just want to make friends._

**_I’m not sure that’s true, Harry. Haven’t you seen Jaws?_ **

_Who hasn’t seen Jaws? It was actually filmed on the very same beach you’re sitting on._

_W **hat, really?!**_

_… No. Sorry. That was a really rubbish joke._

**_Idiot Styles._ **

**_What are you even doing back at the hotel by yourself? I know you’ve got a thing about being professional but you’re welcome to hang out with us. In fact, I’d love it if you did. Xx_ **

_That’s sweet, Louis! Thanks! It’s always a bit hectic on the first day because of last-minute reservations and stuff, but tomorrow I’ll be around more. X_

**_Yay! Xx_ **

Louis smiled, tucking his arms behind his head when it became clear Harry wasn’t going to reply again. He tried not to dwell on the lack of kisses on the end of Harry’s text either, instead buying himself and Zayn some ice-cream from the stand on the edge of the beach.

And if Louis drank a few too many cocktails that night in the hotel restaurant, it was because he was on holiday and he was _allowed_ , not because he was disappointed that Harry didn’t join them at the bar.

* * *

 

 

 True to his word, Harry reappeared the next day. He was wearing another headscarf and a sheer cream shirt, half-undone, paired with denim shorts that stopped just above the knee.

Louis didn’t think he’d ever seen anything more perfect.

“Ready for Santa Monica?” Harry asked, eyes bright and teeth glistening.

Louis wasn’t sure he would ever be ready for a smile like that, but he grinned and nodded anyway as they headed out of the hotel. “Oi, Zayn! Stop flirting and get your arse out here,” Louis called to where his friend was leaning against the counter chatting to Liam, whose cheeks were very pink.

Zayn flipped him off without even turning round and Louis grumbled, fixing his attention back to where Harry was laughing. “What?” He demanded as they wandered outside to wait in the shade of a palm tree.

“Nothing. You just sounded very English for a moment,” Harry said, shrugging. “What part are you from?”

“Doncaster,” Louis replied, leaning against the tree and shielding his eyes from the sun as he looked up at Harry. Their height difference honestly killed Louis. “Good old Donny.”

“I know it,” Harry said, to Louis’ surprise. “I have some family in Cheshire,” he added in way of explanation and Louis opened his mouth to reply just as Zayn came sauntering out of the lobby looking far too pleased with himself.

“You’ve got lipstick on your cheek, mate,” Louis teased, which actually made Zayn _laugh_. God – if Zayn was laughing at a joke like that, then he really was in deep.

They took the limo to Santa Monica. Not because they really needed to, but because the sun was still hot and Louis missed the feeling of importance that came from driving around LA in a fucking limo.

“There’s the pier; I was thinking we could go to the aquarium,” Harry gestured as they got out of the car. The pier didn’t stretch that far out over the sea, but it covered the width of the beach and was bustling with tourist and families. “And then there’s beach, of course. Which first?” Louis couldn’t help but notice that Harry looked directly at _him_ instead of Zayn as he asked.

Louis thought it looked like a postcard – which reminded him, he should probably buy a postcard for his mum and sisters. Harry, though, with his bird tattoos peeking out from his sheer shirt, was a prettier sight than any LA view. There was a thin sheen of sweat high on his forehead and Louis wondered how hot it would have to get before Harry took off his shirt (and whether there was some sort of ritual he could do to make it heat up faster).

There was a massive Ferris wheel further up the pier and when Louis shielded his eyes from the midday sun, he spotted a rollercoaster twisting above the blue sea. “What’s over there?” He asked, hearing Zayn groan beside him.

“I fucking hate rollercoasters,” Zayn announced, already shaking his head even though Louis hadn’t asked the question.

“That’s Pacific Park,” Harry replied. “I was thinking we could go there tonight. It’s prettier in the dark when the lights are all flashy.”

‘ _You’re_ prettier in the dark when the lights are all flashy,’ was nearly Louis’ response, but he bit his tongue at the last minute. “Sounds nice,” he said instead, before hooking his thumb over his shoulder at the aquarium near the start of the pier. “Aquarium first, then?”

* * *

 

 

Late afternoon found them laid out on the beach, breathing in the smell of saltwater and donuts. The sea was pretty, but Harry without a shirt on was prettier.

The sheer material of his shirt hadn’t left much to the imagination, but when Harry had finally stripped it off, Louis couldn’t help but take a sharp inhale of breath. Harry’s torso and arms were dotted with gorgeous black tattoos; leaves on his hips, a pirate ship on his bicep, ‘things I can’t’ sprawled on the inside of his elbow – but the one Louis was drawn to was the huge butterfly over his clavicle. It was pretty and intricate and suited Harry _so well_ that it was astounding. And he was _toned_ \- thick biceps and a stomach that looked like it could probably cut glass.

The sight alone made Louis’ mouth dry and he was endlessly glad he had sunglasses on to hide where his eyes were trailing. As Harry laid on his back, beads of sweat collected in the ridges between his abs and the hollows beside his hips, where the inky black of his tattoos dipped down beneath the waistband of his denim shorts.

“It is what it is,” Harry said suddenly, sitting up on his elbows to look over at Louis and read from his chest. Louis froze, eyes wide behind his glasses. They’d obviously just been sitting in silence reading each other’s tattoos.

“It is,” Louis agreed when he got his voice back. He looked down at the words on his chest and traced them with his fingers. “I like yours, by the way. Your tattoos.”

“Thanks,” Harry replied, cheesy grin on his face. “I picked them myself.”  

Louis snorted and had just opened his mouth to reply when Zayn suddenly stood up beside him. “I think I’m going to head back to the hotel, if that’s okay with you, Lou,” he said, rubbing off sand from his shorts. Louis twisted around to look up at him.

“What, you definitely haven’t changed your mind about the rollercoaster? It’s for kids, mate,” Louis teased, rolling his eyes, but something in the way Zayn had been texting all afternoon made Louis think there was probably another reason Zayn wanted to go back to the hotel.

Harry sat up, moving to stand. “Do you want me to ring Allen to pick you up?” He asked, but Zayn pushed him back down onto his towel with a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sure I can find my way back,” he insisted, rubbing the shaved sides of his hair free of sand and letting the long part flop back forwards where it belonged. “Don’t worry. You lads enjoy yourself on that death-trap.”

Louis could honestly have cried. He _knew_ he let Zayn stick around for a reason. “You too, Z,” he said suggestively. “Be safe!” He called after him, snorting when Zayn didn’t even bother to turn around before giving him the finger.

It was strange, being left alone with Harry. They spent a long time just chatting, getting to know each other and joking around, before they ended up getting hot dogs for dinner. Louis had found himself too wired and excited to wait and be seated at one of the posh seafront restaurants, and Harry insisted hotdogs were his favourite anyway. Louis tried not to dwell on the connotations behind that for too long. Harry had been right about one thing though – the lights _did_ look pretty on the pier once the sun had set.

“It’s insane that you just live here,” Louis said as he licked ketchup from his finger when they had sat down on a bench at the edge of the pier. It was busy again now; families and tourists queueing for the wheel and rollercoaster, flitting between amusements and games with sticks of candyfloss. “Do you just come here on your day off?”

Harry’s face was lit up by a flashing red light on one side and the milky twilight sky by the other. He looked gorgeous as he smiled, all sparkly green eyes and grease-shined lips. “I live about a ninety minute drive from here,” he said, leaning closer to Louis so he could be heard over the sounds of the slot machines and the kids. “So I don’t come here as often as I’d like unless it’s for a tour.”

“You like LA, then?” Louis asked, leaning minutely closer as well, because why not? “You said you have family in Cheshire too.”

“My mum and stepdad live in Cheshire, but I moved to LA when I was ten with my dad. I split my time between them both, really. I was staying in Cheshire for a few days before I met you in London.” Harry grinned and took a sip of his drink. “And yeah, I really do love LA. I know it’s bad, but I do.”

“Wow,” Louis said, more in response to Harry’s smile than anything he’d said. He took a sip of his coke too, thinking. “It’s not bad. I think I sort of love it, too. I feel like LA is like marmite. You know what that is if you go to Cheshire, right?”

“Of course.” Harry rolled his eyes. “I make the best marmite chicken,”

“I’m all about chicken wrapped in Palma ham with mozzarella at the moment, me,” Louis informed Harry, kissing his fingertips like some sort of professional chef. “Whack a bit of homemade mash on the side and you’re laughing.”

Harry made an appreciative noise. “You’ll have to make it for me sometime,” he said around his straw. His eyes seemed to smile at Louis, the rest of his face hidden by his plastic cup. After a moment, his cheeks puffed and Louis could hear him blowing bubbles into his lemonade. Harry couldn’t stop himself from chuckling.

There was a sudden boom, a loud foghorn from the end of the pier, and then a voice through the speakers was letting them know the pier would be closing in an hour. It made Louis jump and something seemed to fizzle in the air between Louis and Harry, before Harry was standing up and pulling Louis to his feet by his wrist.

“Let’s see how many times we can get on the rollercoaster again before closing time,” he said, accent twanging with his excitement and hair flicking around his face.

Louis followed. He watched Harry’s skin dance under the fluorescent lights and wondered if there was anywhere he wouldn’t follow Harry fucking Styles.

He was in too fucking deep.

* * *

 

 

**_What’s the plan today, my Los Angeles prince? Xx_ **

Louis brushed his teeth and made himself a cup of tea while he waited for Harry to reply. He’d slept late, having not been given instruction to get up early. The room he shared with Zayn had a little balcony and he wandered out there to find Zayn on his third cigarette, a sketchbook in his lap.

_Nothing in the books for today, Mr Sleepyhead. Dinner reservation in Santa Monica at 7, though. Meet in the lobby for the limo at quarter to? x_

Louis paused in the doorway to the balcony, grinning as he sent his reply;

**_Sounds good. Xx_ **

“Alright?” Louis greeted as he tucked his phone into his pocket and settled in the other chair. They could see the beach from there, as well as countless tiny swimming pools in people’s back gardens. Louis sort of wanted to move to LA.

“Hey,” Zayn mumbled around his cigarette, waving a pencil in Louis’ general direction. “How was the rollercoaster?” He asked as he put the sketchbook down on the table and stretched his arms above his head, yawning like a cat.

Louis couldn’t help but swoon slightly as he described the evening, right from when Zayn left up until Harry and Louis parted ways in the hotel corridor. “He’s the sweetest person ever, Zayn,” he concluded wistfully. “It’s insane.”

Zayn nodded, pulling a face like he was impressed with how well Louis’ evening had gone. “Sounds good, then,” he agreed. He trailed off, smiling down at his phone as it vibrated.

“Who’s that?” Louis asked, even though he knew what the answer would be.

“Liam,” Zayn said predictably. There was a pause. “We hung out last night,” he added after a moment, head ducked low to reply to Liam’s text, but also probably to avoid Louis’ inquisitive gaze.

“… And?” Louis asked, eyebrows raised. They’d never spared details when it came to their love-lives before, but it had been a while since Zayn had anyone new to talk about. Since either of them had, actually. Louis didn’t really remember the last time he’d grinned at his phone unless it was at something his sister had texted him, which was actually quite sad.

“And it was nice,” was Zayn’s only response and Louis huffed indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest.

After another moment with no response, Louis spoke again. “Did you have sex?”

Zayn rubbed a hand over the back of his head, avoiding eye-contact and staying silent, but Louis could see that he was smiling. Louis knew what that meant. He made a whooping noise and reached out to press a hand to Zayn’s shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“I’m really happy for you, Zayn,” Louis told his best friend honestly. “I know it’s been a while since you were with anybody else.” Louis had trained himself not to say the P-word, out of fear that Zayn would throw something at him and/or start crying. Their break-up hadn’t been a smooth one.

“I know,” Zayn said quietly, finally meeting Louis’ eyes with a soft smile. “But I like him a lot. And I think he likes me as well.”

Louis couldn’t help but snort out a laugh at that and then again at the confused and offended look Zayn gave him. “What?” Zayn demanded, a little crinkle appearing between his eyebrows as he frowned.

“God, Zayn,” Louis spluttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “People fall in love with you left, right and centre. I’m not even joking. Liam is head over heels for you. He’s like a child with a crush, I’m telling you.”

Zayn seemed pleased with that, smiling to himself as he turned his pencil over between his fingers like a drum stick. “You really think so?”

“I _know_ so,” Louis insisted, squeezing his hand around Zayn’s biceps before stealing one of his cigarettes. He didn’t smoke as often as Zayn, not since he’d been told off by his little sisters one day, but sometimes the urge got the better of him. His cheeks were starting to strain with the perpetual smile he was giving Zayn.

“It’s just nice, innit?” Zayn said in a slow voice, as though he was thinking out loud rather than actually talking to Louis. “Nice to be with someone. To have someone to answer your texts and fall sleep next to. I’d forgotten what it was like.”

Louis swallowed, staring out at the sea on the horizon. There was a little boat out in the distance. He watched it until it became a spec, disappearing out of eyesight. “I suppose so,” he said, but he wasn’t really sure at all.

Louis was quiet that night at dinner and something about the way Harry acted gave Louis the impression that he maybe knew something was up. It wasn’t like Louis was jealous or anything, but what Zayn said had struck a tender spot Louis hadn’t known was there.

“Tomorrow I was thinking we could hit up Hollywood,” Harry told Louis, unprompted, while he watched Zayn text Liam under the table. He ducked his head a little bit to meet Louis’ eyes, a crinkle between his eyebrows.

Louis tore his eyes away from Zayn and smiled at Harry, forcing himself to snap out of it. He took another sip of wine, shooting Harry a thumbs up. “Awesome,” he said, putting on a rubbish LA accent that made Harry chuckle. “Are we going to see some famous people?”

Harry shrugged and bumped his arm against Louis’ affectionately. It made something warm ooze outwards in Louis’ chest, filling the spaces between his ribs. “Maybe, if you keep an eye out. Last tour I was on, we bumped into Katy Perry.”

“Are you fucking shitting me?” Louis asked loudly. A few people on the adjacent tables turned to look at him and he snorted, covering his mouth with his hand. “Are you fucking shitting me?” He repeated, just a whisper this time.

Harry frowned, amused. “No, I’m being serious. Katy Perry has to live somewhere, doesn’t she? I’ve planned for us to do a tour of all the celebrities’ mansions in Beverly Hills next week, so you’ll even get to see her house.”

Louis’ mouth dropped open, his eyes wide. “What, really?”

Harry grinned at Louis’ enthusiasm. “Yeah, really. And tomorrow, we’ll see _loads_ of celebrities. I promise you. Like, hundreds.”

Louis huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “I fucking love LA,” he said, shaking his head and sighing with content.

* * *

 

 

The next morning, when Louis got out of the limo, he frowned in confusion. “You call _this_ meeting hundreds of celebrities?” Louis raised an eyebrow and turned to stare at Harry. All the build up last night, all the instructions from Harry about how to ask for celebrities for selfies in the car, and _this_ was where he’d been taken.

Louis fought to keep the smirk off his face, but when he saw Harry’s childish grin, he couldn’t do it.

“Welcome to Madam Tussauds Hollywood!” Harry announced, stepping forward and lifting up his arms with spectacularly camp and flamboyant flourish.

Beside Louis, Zayn wasn’t even trying to hide his laughter. He snorted even louder at the indignant expression on Louis’ face. “Fuck, that was a good one,” he announced, patting Harry appreciatively on the back as he passed him.

Harry looked _far_ too pleased with himself, and Louis was _far_ too enamoured by it.

“Fuck you both,” he said, sniffing as he pushed his way through the double doors into the museum.

Louis took selfies with _every single_ figure until Zayn and Harry were yawning into the backs of their hands, just to get them back. And it was worth it, if only for the way Harry smiled at him in the gift shop.

In the end, Zayn ended up ditching them for the second day in a row. He got a text somewhere between Madame Tussauds and Hollywood Hills, and Louis could only assume it was a photo of Liam’s dick with the urgency he made Allen drive them back to the hotel. That left Louis and Harry to spend the afternoon at Universal Studios, just the two of them.

“Why does it seem like this is how your holiday is going to go?” Harry asked in an amused voice as they wandered through the theme park.

Louis shrugged, sighing theatrically. “Because it probably is how my holiday will go,” he said in a grave voice.

“Aw,” Harry cooed. His voice was so deep and slow that Louis couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine. “I won’t let you get bored, don’t worry.”

“Oh,” Louis responded instantly, wiggling his eyebrows and fluttering his lashes in Harry’s direction. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

Harry just chuckled and licked his ice-cream in a way that took Louis’ imagination to places it probably shouldn’t go to in a family theme park. “Do you want to go on a Studio Tour? It’s really cool,” he said instead of replying properly, and Louis couldn’t help but pout.

It was amazing, really, how well the two of them just seemed to _click_ the longer they were around one another. There was something about Harry’s infectious dimpled smile and his slow drawl – or maybe it was his tendency to skip when he got excited. The way his shirt buttons seemed to become more and more undone throughout the day until Louis wished Harry would just take it off entirely to put Louis out of his misery. The way Louis wanted to grab where Harry’s body seemed to curve out above his hips, or run his fingers through Harry’s silky hair.

They’d only known each other for a few days, but Louis couldn’t help noticing Harry watching him out of the corner of his eye; he couldn’t stop his heart from pounding every time Harry grabbed his hand as the rollercoasters dropped. Louis didn’t remember the last time he’d been on a date where a glance could give him butterflies in his tummy, but every moment with Harry seemed to be doing just that. If Louis was honest, he didn’t remember the last time he’d been on a proper date at all.

Late afternoon, having exhausted themselves with countless rollercoasters and tours, they’d settled themselves on a pair of stools in the corner of one of the countless bars running down the Hollywood strip. Three hours later the sun had set, and they still hadn’t moved.

In fact, there were a dozen empty glasses on the bar in front of them and the remains of three rounds of potato skins.

“I’m not saying I’m not _glad_ Zayn’s found someone Liam,” Louis was saying loudly, resting his chin on his hand and his elbow against the bar. Harry’s hair was shiny under the lights and Louis was a little bit tipsy. “It’s just that he’s been single for a total of about six months in the ten years I’ve known him.”

“Has he always had boyfriends, then?” Harry asked conversationally. He didn’t seem to be as drunk as Louis, which was confusing – but then again, he always had a little glint in his eye, even when he was sober.

Louis stirred the umbrella in his drink, humming as he thought. “Not just boyfriends. He was with Perrie, his girlfriend, for five years until about three months ago,” Louis said softly. “And then there were a few boys and girls before that.” Louis was silent for a moment, a rush of affection for his best friend flooding his body. “He gets really attached.”

Harry stayed quiet, watching Louis with an unreadable expression on his face. “What about you?” He asked, leaning closer to Louis, forearms resting on the bar.

“What about me?” Louis tipped his drink up and tapped the bottom of the glass, trying to get the ice to fall into his mouth.

“Boyfriends?” Harry asked, still watching Louis with inquisitive eyes, like Louis was a puzzle he was trying to figure out. “Girlfriends?”

Louis hummed thoughtfully. “Not unless you count the ones that are gone in the morning,” he said gently with a soft shrug. His words were slurring a little and he blushed at the admission. “And boyfriends, not girlfriends,” he amended as an afterthought, leaning nearer to Harry to bump their shoulders together. He sighed into the bottom of his empty glass, trying to stop the room from spinning around him.

“I can’t believe anyone would leave you in the morning,” Harry’s gentle voice offered, breaking the silence. Louis looked up at him, a deep breath caught in his throat. Harry’s eyes were wide and earnest and it he looked so pretty that it honestly made Louis’ insides ache.

Louis dipped his head, smiling into his hand. “C’mon, then,” Louis said when he caught his breath back. He tilted his face to the side. “Tell me. What about you?”

Harry shrugged, tipping back on his stool and stretching his arms above his head. “I’m too pretty to settle down,” he replied, dimpling all over the shop, and Louis groaned at the joke.

“That you are, love,” Louis agreed fondly, but he wasn’t entirely sure it actually came out as anything other than one syllable of slurring.

“But were I to settle down, it would be with a nice boy,” Harry said, his smile stretching up to his ears; “preferably with pretty blue eyes and bangin’ curves.”

Louis’ jaw fell open and he reached out to bat a hand on Harry’s shoulder, choking out a drunken laugh. “Oi! Cheeky.” He could feel his blush edging down his neck and into his tank top and wondered if Harry could see it too.

Harry’s laugh tinkled in Louis’ ears, his hand seeming to heat up Louis’ skin as he looped an arm around his shoulders. “Let’s get you back to the hotel, then,” Harry said in a soothing voice, patting Louis on the back. He left his hand resting against the small of Louis’ back as he led them out of the bar.

Louis knew he would wake up with one hell of a hangover the next morning, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care. He wished Harry a goodnight by the elevator, words mumbled drunkenly into Harry’s warm chest as they hugged. Harry helped Louis use his key-card to open his door and they hugged again, before Louis went inside. It was probably the best way Louis’ night could have ended.

Well. _Almost_ the best way his night could have ended. Louis could imagine one better way, but for now, he was happy.

* * *

 

 

The next few days were spent in a similar manner, once Louis got over his killer hangover.

He just couldn’t stop the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he and Harry were slowly but surely falling in love with each other.

The thing that astounded Louis the most was that it none of it felt like _effort_ to him. It wasn’t a chore to make Harry laugh or loop his arms around Harry every so often in a sudden hug. They just _got on_. And since Zayn had only been getting more loved-up with Liam as each day passed, Louis couldn’t keep from seeing each place they visited as a date with Harry.

“This one is Rudolph Valentino,” Harry said, sometime at the start of their second week, as they wandered around Hollywood Forever Cemetery. Louis’ immediate reaction to the graveyard full of dead stars in the middle of central Hollywood was pure horror at how morbid it was, but after an hour or so, Louis had grown to love it. There was something about being surrounded by the graves of hundreds of famous people that was actually sort of romantic, in an awful, Lana-Del-Rey-probably-has-a-song-about-this, sort of way. Although it wasn’t quite as busy and exciting as Paramount Studios, where they’d spent the morning, Louis couldn’t help but fall in love with it.

“Huh?” Louis mumbled absently in response. He’d been too busy skimming through the photos he’d taken on his phone to pay attention. There was a _great_ one of Harry standing next to Johnny Ramone’s grave marker; hair wild, shirt gaping as he posed in full-on air-guitar mode next to the rock star’s metallic statue. Louis had to bite down on his lip to hide his smile as he tucked his phone back into his pocket. “Sorry, I’m listening now. Who’s this?”

Harry tutted and crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his toe in a perfect (if slightly more camp) imitation of the impatient tour-guide they’d had earlier at Paramount Studios. “If you wouldn’t mind paying attention so I don’t have to raise my voice, then that would actually be super awesome, thanks,” he announced in a ridiculous Valley Girl accent, eyebrows raised and hands on hips.

Louis lifted his finger to his lips and made a hushing sound, eyes wide and innocent as he fought back his hysterics. The urge to kiss Harry had been overwhelming all morning. To be honest, he couldn’t imagine a better backdrop for a first kiss with someone than Hollywood Forever, but he wasn’t ready to shatter whatever magic he and Harry had managed to capture in the past week.

“And there you go,” Harry said suddenly when they’d finished their tour, freezing in his tracks and waving a hand towards – well, towards nothing in particular.

Louis frowned, confused, scanning the area for a grave they hadn’t already seen. “I think we’ve done this bit already, Harry –“

“No,” Harry interrupted. He stood behind Louis, rested a hand on his shoulders and twisted him around to the right. “There,” he mumbled in a soft voice right next to Louis’ ear, before tilting Louis’ chin up ever-so-gently.

In the distance, behind a haze of misty sunlight, was the Hollywood sign.

“Fuck,” Louis exhaled, eyes wide as he stared at it. Photos and the TV shows Louis had seen definitely didn’t do the sight justice. “That is sex appeal at its finest, right there,” he said, huffing out a speechless laugh and for once not reaching for his phone to take a photo. Harry had left his arms looped around Louis’ neck, so Louis lifted his hands up to catch Harry’s fingers in his own. When he twisted to look at Harry’s face, gorgeous and sunny, Louis found that Harry was already staring at him.

“Yeah, it is,” Harry whispered. His eyes were bright, the hint of a smile hidden behind the beautiful green, as he brought up a hand to stroke gently down the side of Louis’ face. Louis was sure for a moment that Harry was going to kiss him, but instead, he just smoothed his hand over the back of Louis’ head and then pulled away. “Not yet,” he added after a brief second of silence, shaking his head and catching Louis’ hand with his own to squeeze.

Louis thought he would wait as long as Harry wanted, as long as Harry never stopped looking at him like that.

* * *

 

 

“- And then he said, ‘not yet, Louis,’ and pulled away.” Louis pouted as he spoke, sticking his bottom lip out and twisting further back to look at Zayn. Louis was sprawled with his thighs resting on the back cushions of the sofa, his back flat on the seat and his head almost grazing the floor. From his peculiar position he could just about make out Zayn, upside-down and blurry, where he was sat at the breakfast bar with his sketchbook.

“That is a bit weird,” Zayn agreed, tapping his pencil to his chin thoughtfully. “At least he definitely wants to kiss you though. You’ll just have to wait and see what happens, I guess.”

Louis snorted – it came out strange from his upside-down position. “I already knew he wanted to kiss me, Zayn. It’s obvious.”

Zayn hummed agreeably, not looking up from his drawing. “Alright. Cocky, aren’t you?”

Louis pulled up onto the sofa properly when his head started to hurt, settling himself cross-legged on the cushions. “So what about you, anyway? You missed out on a good day today. Not that your presence would have been appreciated – no offence. Third wheel central, you’d have been.”

Zayn smiled, of course – all Louis had to do was bring up Liam to get Zayn’s full and undivided attention. “We just hung out at the pool upstairs,” he said, voice taking on a dreamy quality and eyes glazing over. Zayn had such an expressive face – it was like watching a Disney prince. Or princess. Louis didn’t want to think too much about the details, if he was honest.

“What – all day? Doesn’t he have work to do?” Louis asked incredulously.

Zayn shrugged, swinging his legs from the stool. “He’s the manager, he can do what he wants. He’s a proper workaholic, though – took ages to persuade him to take the day off. In the end he just put up a sign on the pool door that said, like, ‘closed for maintenance’ or something, so it was just us.” Zayn smirked, and Louis pulled a disgusted face.

“That is revolting,” Louis scolded, taking one look at Zayn’s expression and grimacing. “You realise other people use that pool, don’t you? I was planning to go for a dip before I went to bed, but not anymore.”

Zayn tipped his head back as he laughed and Louis’ heart swelled at the noise. “We weren’t actually _in_ the pool. Liam wouldn’t let us.”

“God,” Louis choked, standing up and covering his ears with his hands. If he hadn’t, he would have heard Zayn mumbling under his breath about the ‘Jacuzzi’s, Louis, they’re amazing’ – but honestly, Louis wasn’t sorry he missed that.

* * *

 

In the end, Louis and Harry’s first kiss was better than Louis had imagined. It was better than the cemetery, better than the Hollywood sign, and _definitely_ better than Zayn and Liam’s all-day date beside the pool.

It went like this.

“Where are we off to today, then?” Louis had asked in the morning, sliding into the seat next to Harry in the limo. Since Zayn had taken to ditching them, Harry had started to sit next to Louis as they drove, and it was sort of the best thing ever. Whenever they took a sharp turn, Louis used it as an excuse to press himself against Harry’s side and by the time they got to wherever they were headed, they usually found themselves about as close to one another as physically possible, despite the extra space around them.

“You’re going to love it,” Harry promised, his slow American drawl sending shivers up Louis’ spine. “Beverly Hills mansion tour. My favourite part.”

Louis’ grin could have split his face in two. “For real? We’re going to see where Katy Perry lives?” He clung to Harry’s arm, fingers digging in to his bare tanned skin as he all but vibrated where he sat.

“And Madonna, Marlon Brando and Pamela Anderson – just to name a few,” Harry nodded, twisting in his seat to put his pink iPod nano onto the dock by the minibar. “I’ve made us a playlist, because we’re going to be driving around a lot today.”

Louis had had suspicions that Harry was a Taylor Swift fan (if only because of his penchant for cowboy hats when the sun was particularly bright) but until they drove past her incredible four-story mansion on the corner of North Beverly Drive two hours later, it hadn’t been confirmed. Driving past Taylor Swift’s house also confirmed another of Louis’ suspicions – that Harry had an amazing singing voice.

“What? Stop staring at me,” Harry panted out breathlessly while Shake it off faded into Party in the USA in the background. Louis hadn’t realised a necessary skill for his future husband was the ability to sing the entirety of Shake it off, including the rap, but today was apparently a day filled with new things.

“Nothing,” Louis replied around a smile, hiding his blush behind his hands. Harry was always so full of life with his gangly, wavy limbs and his crazy hair. Louis reached over to brush back a curl that had fallen out of place from Harry’s headscarf, letting his hand linger a little while longer than need be. “You’re just very cute.”

Harry had blushed even brighter than before, shrugging bashfully and smiling so wide that he suddenly looked about four years old. “No, you are,” he countered lamely, before the two of them dissolved into giggles again.

It was as they were driving up the road to Elvis Presley’s old house that it happened.

“It took a while for me to decide between this and Jailhouse Rock,” Harry gushed, “but in the end I just really like this one.” Harry watched Louis expectantly as Elvis’ old mansion appeared outside his window. It took a moment for Louis to realise what song was coming from the speakers, but as the singing started, his breath caught in his throat.

Harry hummed along, mumbling the words to Can’t Help Falling in Love under his breath as he they cruised past the corner. He scooted along the seat to press against Louis while he looked out of the window, all of a sudden impossibly close.

“This is a really good song,” Louis agreed, heart pounding in his chest. He was staring out at the mansion, almost too nervous to move at all, when he felt Harry’s mouth brush ever-so-softly against his cheek.

Louis took a sharp inhale. He turned to meet Harry’s heavy gaze and they stared at each other for a moment, before Louis edged his face nearer and their lips met.

It was a short kiss, sweet and lovely, and exactly what Louis had expected from Harry.

“You’re such a smooth motherfucker,” Louis mumbled as they pulled apart, both breathless and pink-cheeked. “You definitely picked that song on purpose, didn’t you?” Louis closed his eyes for just a second as he tried to capture the moment in his mind, tangling their fingers together and leaning forward to rest his forehead against Harry’s.

Harry grinned – his teeth and dimples were even better this close. “I wanted it to be special,” he said in a low voice that sent tingles down the back of Louis’ neck, before kissing Louis again.

Louis had no idea how long they were at it for. He was sitting in Harry’s lap, hands tangled in his mess of curls and grinding back into Harry’s hands when they finally stopped. If Louis’ honest with himself, the only reason they stopped was because they were about to pass Diana Ross’ mansion and Harry had decided to break out loudly into I’m Coming Out as the song started playing.

They didn’t stop holding hands until they parted ways in the hotel corridor that night, after one last kiss that sent Louis’ heartrate skyrocketing.

“Night,” Harry whispered when they reluctantly pulled away from each other.

“Night, love.” Louis voice was shaky and breathless. He blew Harry a kiss from up the corridor before he let himself into his room, light-headed and love-struck and happier than he could remember feeling in a long, long time.

* * *

 

 

The next morning, Louis knocked lightly on Harry’s door ten minutes before they were supposed to meet in the lobby. When Harry answered, it was with a croaky voice and messy hair.

“Oh –“ Louis started, freezing suddenly. He hadn’t expected Harry to be shirtless – or wearing pyjama bottoms. “Sorry, I just – aren’t you coming with us today?”

Harry stared in surprise before grabbing his phone from the table by the door. “What time is it?” He asked, and then his eyes widened. “Fuck,” he exclaimed, lifting a hand to his forehead to brush back his messy hair. Louis was struck with a sudden urge to brush it for him.

“Did you oversleep? Don’t worry, we can just wait for you,” Louis smiled, raising his palms as though trying to calm an animal or something. Harry looked more flustered than Louis had ever seen him.

Harry sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “I did. But it’s just not that. I wanted to talk to you before we left today.” Harry turned and headed back into his room, gesturing for Louis to follow, so Louis stepped tentatively inside and closed the door behind him. His heart was pounding and he couldn’t help but chew on his thumbnail as he waited for Harry to talk again.

“The thing is,” Harry started, turning back to Louis. He rested his hand against the breakfast bar diving the kitchenette and living space and rapped his nails against the counter, as though lost for words. “Yesterday was amazing,” he announced suddenly, face breaking into a wide smile, but Louis couldn’t help thinking that probably wasn’t ‘the thing’ he’d been intending to tell Louis.

“It was incredible,” Louis agreed. He stepped closer and took a deep breath before resting his hand on top of Harry’s on the counter. Harry responded instantly, turning his fingers over so they could hold hands, and something in Louis’ chest untightened a little. “Now, mind telling me what’s gotten you all worked up?”

Harry chuckled, looking down at his pigeon-toed feet. “It’s stupid,” he said, shaking his head. When he looked up at Louis again there was undeniable worry in his eyes. “It’s just that I might get fired if the company I work for finds out about us,” he blurted out. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth.

Louis frowned for a moment, but when it became clear Harry wasn’t going to say any more, he spoke. “Why? What the fuck?” His frown deepened and he squeezed Harry’s hand urgently. “Because you’re gay? What the fuck, Harry, that’s –“

“No, no.” Harry exhaled slowly and smiled out of the corner of his mouth. “Nothing like that. Don’t worry. I’m just supposed to stay professional and impartial with my clients,” he said in a voice that didn’t sound like his own, as though he’d read it in his contract a thousand times over.

Louis stared in silence for a few beats. “So?”

Harry huffed and covered his eyes with his free hand. “I knew you would say that.”

“Say what?” Louis demanded incredulously. “Look, Harry – it’s a stupid rule. Why does it matter if you have a quick snog in a limo with one of your clients? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. And how would they even find out?”

“I just… I don’t know.” There was a smile curling at the corners of Harry’s lips and Louis had just opened his mouth to ask what was so funny when Harry spoke. “Snog,” he repeated suddenly, in an awful Charles Dickens’-esque English accent.

“Oh my god,” Louis exclaimed, unable to keep from laughing. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, pulling his hand from Harry’s to punch him weakly on the arm.

Harry laughed too for a moment, before the smile fell from his face. “You realise what I’m saying, though?” He asked in a sad voice. “We can’t keep doing this while I technically work for you.”

Louis was silent, scanning Harry’s face. “That’s okay,” he said slowly, stepping closer to Harry. He reached out to clasp both of Harry’s hands in his own and had to tilt his head to look up at Harry’s face with how close they were standing. “I mean, _technically_ , you only work for me for another three days,” Louis pointed out. He didn’t want to fuck things up, didn’t want to suggest that they let this thing between them last longer than a holiday fling and have Harry run for the hills, but the truth was, Harry had never been just a fling to Louis – and something about the way Harry was looking at him made Louis think he agreed.

“That’s true,” Harry replied in a voice just as tentative. He pulled Louis hands further round his body to rest against lower back and then leaned forward, pressing himself gently against Louis as his hands found Louis’ waist. “And…” He trailed off, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and chewing on it adorably.

“… And?” Louis imitated, a little smile growing on his face. “ _And_ I would love to see you again after those three days,” he added, when Harry didn’t reply straight away. “You’re probably one of the sweetest guys I’ve ever met and I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this around anyone else before, so. Yeah. Definitely.

Harry seemed to deflate a little. He smiled as though that was what he’d been waiting for Louis to tell him all along – as if he Louis had to tell him. “I feel the same way, Louis,” he gushed, tugging Louis’ body minutely closer to his own. “I’ve got a few months off after this,” he added after a moment, voice nothing more than a whisper as he fought back a smile. “I haven’t stayed at my mum’s in Cheshire for more than a flying visit in ages.”

Louis couldn’t contain his grin any longer at that. He made a weird noise – half-sigh, half-whoop, and stood up as tall as he could to press his lips to Harry’s. “That sounds perfect,” he whispered against Harry’s mouth. His fingertips trailed over Harry’s bare back as he pulled him into a hug, practically standing on his tiptoes in his eagerness.

Harry laughed against Louis’ neck as they hugged; a wonderful, delighted sound that left Louis’ toes curling up in his Toms. “I’ll book myself in for the same flight as you then, yeah?” He asked, as though asking Louis for permission.

“Um, yes?” Louis said, pulling a face. “What, are you going to make me beg?” He sighed contentedly against Harry’s firm chest, the warmth of the bare skin of his shoulder seeping into Louis’ body. “But I suppose this means no more – well, _anything_ – until we’re back in England,” he added sadly after a moment, pulling back to look at Harry’s face.

Harry nodded solemnly, his voice equally grave as he spoke. “’Fraid so.”

Louis pouted and looked up at Harry from under his eyelashes. “Just one more kiss, though? For the road?” He asked, batting his eyes just to hear that tinkling laugh again.

Harry’s hand on Louis’ waist tightened a little and he sighed long-sufferingly. “I suppose that’s allowed,” he said, before he was pressing his lips to Louis’ with enough force to bend him backwards at the waist. Harry’s hands were firm on Louis’ back; Louis was confident in Harry’s ability to hold him up, so he just let himself dissolve into the kiss.

* * *

 

 

Keeping his hands off Harry though, as Louis found out, was harder than he’d thought.

“It’s fucking ridiculous how much I want to kiss him, Zayn,” Louis groaned into his phone as he wandered up the beach. It was their last day, so Louis had headed over to Santa Monica when the sun had started to cool down to spend what was left of his prize money. There wasn’t much, if Louis was honest with himself. He’d spent a lot on presents for his sisters and mum in the fancy jewellery shops on Sunset Boulevard, as well as more than enough on clothes when Harry had taken him shopping the day before. A fair share had gone on drinks in the multiple bars that he, Harry and Zayn had visited, but Louis wasn’t about to tell his mum and sisters that.

Zayn sighed into his ear, sounding bored and frustrated. “Louis,” he huffed; “this time tomorrow we’re going to be on the plane back to England, and then you can kiss him all you fucking want, okay? Stop being such a drama queen.”

Louis scuffed his bare foot along the sand sulkily. “It’s easy for you, Mr. My Boyfriend Owns a Hotel and Has Already Basically asked me to Come Back in Like a Month.” Louis wasn’t bitter that Liam had offered Zayn a free stay in his hotel with his family whenever they wanted. Not at all. He’d totally dropped his mug of tea on purpose when Zayn had told him the previous day. Louis had always thought it would be the most amazing thing to live in a hotel permanently, like some sort of superstar.

“I still have to say goodbye to him though, don’t I?” Zayn said in a reasonable voice, but Louis could sense an edge of undeniable sadness to it. Louis couldn’t help feeling a little bit guilty after that, so he’d ended up apologising a lot as they’d said goodbye.

He’d bought Zayn a collection of stuff with his prize money, not to mention paid for every meal they’d shared since arriving, but when he got to the shops he picked Zayn up the most expensive pair of Ray-Bans he could find. Not as apology, but – well, okay. Maybe he did owe Zayn an apology. Louis had been spending such a long time fretting over his own lack of sex life that he hadn’t spared a thought for Zayn on his last night with Liam. Even though something told Louis it wasn’t a goodbye as much as a see-you-soon, he couldn’t help but worry.

He was just about to head back to the hotel, arms laden with bags, when a market stand caught his eye. It was one of those gimmicky, ‘I Heart LA’ type things, but it planted an idea into Louis’ head.

Louis walked back to the hotel with one more bag in his hand and a spring in his step.

* * *

 

Thankfully, Louis still had enough of his prize money left to get himself suitably drunk on his last night. The remnants of what he’d ordered were lined up on the breakfast bar, empty glasses and olives and little umbrellas in a mess on the counter. Part of him was glad that Zayn wasn’t there to witness the frantic mess he’d become, but another part wished he was– to either talk him out of his ridiculous plan or help him with it.

“Come on, Louis,” he mumbled to himself as he twisted to look at himself in the full-length mirror of his wardrobe. The t-shirt he’d bought had ended up a little too big, so he’d taken the kitchen scissors to it, and – well. At least Louis had the stomach to rock a crop top. “You can do this. You look fucking fit.”

After a little while longer spent pep-talking himself, Louis finally felt calm enough to text Harry. He had to squint at his phone and retype the message about three times, his vision too blurry his brain too fuzzy for him to trust himself.

**_Meet me at the infinity pool in ten? Xxxx_ **

Five minutes later, Louis was in the lift and hoping no one from the hotel found him with the iPod dock he’d stolen from his room in his arms. No-one did and luckily when he got upstairs to the pool, Liam’s note was on the door, just like he’d promised. Louis made a mental note to thank him before they left. Liam and Zayn were _so_ good for each other.

The pool looked even prettier at night. White lights sparkled at the bottom of the water and shone up the palm trees surrounding it, and if Louis listened really hard he could still hear the muffled sounds of LA nightlife from down below. Stars were dotted above him, brighter than he would have expected in the city – or maybe it was just the alcohol in his blood that was leaving him seeing spots.

Louis’ phone vibrated where it sat on a sunbed just as he got the iPod dock to work so he fumbled for a moment, trying to turn down Miley Cyrus and read the text at the same time.

_On my way. What are you doing…? Xxxxx_

Louis sniggered a little, just as the door behind him opened.

“Welcome!” Louis exclaimed with gusto as he span around to greet Harry. He stumbled, tripping over his own bare feet. “I – whoops.” Louis stood still for a second, arms out as though expecting to fall – which, to be honest, was probably quite likely seeing as the floor appeared to be rocking under his feet.

Harry was in nothing but a pair of yellow swimming shorts, revealing his thick, tanned thighs, and if Louis trusted himself to be able to walk in a straight line next to a swimming pool he would have crossed the distance to wrap up Harry in his arms.

“Louis?” Harry took a few steps nearer, his expression torn between amusement and concern. “What are you doing?” He paused for a moment, before his eyes widened and he swallowed. “What are you _wearing_?”

Louis just scoffed, tugging at the frayed bottom of his homemade crop-top. “Oh, this old thing,” he said, flicking imaginary hair over his shoulder and fighting to stay upright. “Do you like it?” Louis tugged at the bottom of his just-on-the-right-side-of-too-short shorts, suddenly self-conscious.

Harry covered his mouth to hide his grin. “I love it,” he said, and Louis smiled proudly as he got nearer, before realising that he’d never actually turned the music back on.

“Oh, fuck – just, wait there a sec –“ Louis mumbled, crouching down to flick through his iPod. He stilled for a moment on Diana Ross, thinking fondly back to the time the made out in a limo outside her house, but skipped past it until it got to what he was looking for.

“Lana Del Rey?” Harry blurted out. He was nearer to Louis now, stood behind a sunbed as though trying to hold himself back. “Louis, we talked about this yesterday…” he trailed off, and when Louis twisted around he could see Harry’s eyes were wide in the half-light.

Louis rocked back on his heels for a moment as he crouched and ended up sticking out his arse for balance as he tried to steady himself enough to stand up. “But it’s our last night,” he said, proud of how little he slurred – which was actually not that little at all. “I really wanted us to have a nice time. And yes, Lana – we’re in LA, it’s practically the law to listen to her.” He stretched his arms above his head, letting his shirt ride up to reveal his tanned stomach as he danced half-heartedly. Maybe his plan to get drunk and alluring hadn’t quite worked out – he was more at that point of drunk-and-sleepy, but whatever. Louis was going to roll with it. He closed it eyes and let out a slow sigh, tilting his head back and breathing in the California air. West Coast was probably playing a little too loudly for the hour, but Louis couldn’t find it within himself to care.

Apparently to Harry though, Louis was still alluring, even in his state of complete intoxication. He came out from behind the sunbed and all it took was a flip of Louis’ fringe and an apathetic wiggle of his hips, his forearms draped over his head, before Harry was crossing the space between them and pressing his lips to Louis’.

“You couldn’t just wait a day?” Harry asked in a wrecked voice when they broke apart to catch their breath. He wrapped his arms around Louis’ waist, pressing his hands against Louis’ back where his shirt had ridden up and tilted him backwards slightly.

Louis tipped his head up and smiled at the dark sky. He trailed his fingers lightly up and down Harry’s bare back. “Sorry, I just couldn’t help myself,” Louis slurred unapologetically. He reached up to kiss Harry again, harder this time, and let out a little whine from the back of his throat when Harry’s teeth grazed against his lower lip.

“You’re going to be hungover on the plane,” Harry pointed out. His hands were dipping lower on Louis’ back, and before he’d even realised what was happening, they were pressed against Louis’ arse. “Is this okay?” Harry’s voice was breathless as he stared down at Louis with worried eyes, lips damp and a flush to his cheeks that was absolutely _criminal_.

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis insisted between pants for breath. He pressed himself up against Harry and arched his back, pushing into Harry’s hands.

If the noises Harry was making were anything to go by, he was enjoying himself as much as Louis was. He grinded against Harry’s thigh, feeling the heat build between them. His whole body felt so alive at the closeness and intensity of it – he wanted to touch Harry all over, all at once.

Of course it was Louis’ enthusiasm, as always, that had to ruin it.

“Louis, let’s just –“ Harry mumbled, pulling back gently as he squeezed Louis’ waist. “Let’s sit down,” he tried, but seemed to give up again after a few seconds.

Louis just moaned into Harry’s mouth as he kissed him over and over, little pecks that got deeper until he was edging his tongue between Harry’s lips. His hands tightened into Harry’s hair and Harry couldn’t help but grind against Louis at every little tug.

Louis’ kisses against Harry’s mouth grew more and more desperate. He was just standing up on his tiptoes to loop his arms around Harry’s neck when he stumbled. “Fuck,” he let out in a gruff, breathless exclamation, before his heart seemed to jolt in his chest, and he was pushing Harry backwards into the swimming pool and tumbling after him.

There was a moment where Louis, in his drunken state, actually panicked that the two of them had died. The sudden silence and coldness engulfed him, and his first thought was, ‘holy shit, I never got to fuck Harry.’ He fell to the bottom of the pool and bounced on his arse, before strong hands were looping under his armpits and pulling him to the surface.

The first thing Louis could hear as he was dragged to the edge of the pool was hysterical laughter.

The second thing was Harry’s voice calling out, “are you okay?” Louis spat out a mouthful of chlorine and water with a grimace and rubbed at his eyes before looking around. Harry’s face was right up close to his, hair dripping and eyes impossibly green.

“You look like baby Tarzan,” Louis said under his breath. His voice was croaky and tired, like he’d just smoked a pack and a half. He blinked around in a daze, trying to figure out what had just fucking happened. “I’m so fucking sorry I pushed you into the pool,” he added after a second. He had to tread water to keep upright, one hand steadied on the edge, but Harry had his feet firmly on the ground.

“I’m not,” Harry admitted, snorting out another laugh. “That was probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Louis buried his face into the crook of his arm, letting out a pathetic groan. “I am such a mess,” he mumbled, half-wishing he _had_ drowned as he’d fallen. “I am literally so sorry.”

“Hey.” Harry pressed his face against Louis’ shoulder and nuzzled until Louis had no choice but to twist to look at him. “Hey,” he repeated, drawing the word out as long as he could. “I still love you.”

Louis’ heart stuttered in his chest as he looked up at Harry from under his dripping eyelashes. “Yeah?” he asked, voice shuddering slightly.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. He smiled as he leant forward to rest their foreheads together and lifted up a hand to catch a drop of water about to fall from Louis’ cheekbone.

“Me too,” Louis told Harry, voice barely above a whisper.

* * *

 

 

They woke up the next morning to Harry’s alarm going off, tangled up on one sunbed with the sun beaming down on them. Louis’ head was pounding where it rested on Harry’s hard chest, and his left arm had gone to sleep somewhere underneath him. He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut against the onslaught of sound and light.

“Make it stop,” he mumbled into Harry’s skin. He tightened his grasp on Harry’s wrist when he felt him starting to move, and Harry stopped moving.

Then Harry’s hands were stroking over Louis’ hair. “C’mon, Lou,” he said gently from somewhere close to Louis’ ear. “Time to go home.”

Louis took a deep breath before forcing his eyes open. The first thing he saw was one of Harry’s bird tattoos – the second thing he saw was Harry’s smile. It made the pounding in his head slow down, if only for a moment.

And then the memories came flooding back. “Oops,” was all he said, when he saw the mess Harry’s hair had dried in. He felt his face flush in embarrassment when he looked over to find his iPod and the dock still sat on the sunbed.

“Hi,” Harry replied, in an easy-going, sleepy sort of voice. “How’s your head?”

Louis lifted it up slowly, trying to settle himself into a comfortable sitting position when his whole body felt like it had been tossed from a balcony. “Not actually as bad as I was expecting,” he said, grimacing at the disgusting taste in his mouth. “I am literally so sorry about last night,” he added after a moment, wincing apologetically at Harry, who was stretching his arms above his head. Louis couldn’t restrain himself any longer – he reached up to smooth Harry’s curls down at the side. “Honestly, it was so stupid of me.”

Harry laughed, tipping his head back. He’d caught the sun from being asleep all morning, Louis noticed – his nose was red, and there were a spattering of new freckles high on his cheekbones. “I liked it,” Harry told him. He leant down and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to the corner of Louis’ mouth, before tapping Louis’ bare chest with his fingertips. “But now you’ve got to go and get ready, because we need to be at the airport in an hour.”

Louis groaned again and almost just refused, almost curled back up on the sunbed to stay forever, but knowing he got to take Harry home with him made it slightly easier.

* * *

 

 

“Louis. For fuck’s sake.”

Louis’ hand ran up Harry’s leg again, oblivious to Zayn’s voice with his headphones on. He squeezed his thighs together and let out a slow exhale.

“Louis. _Louis_.”

Louis sighed and rested his head on Harry’s shoulder, staring unflinchingly at the tiny airplane screen in front of them. He wasn’t even sure what movie they were watching – all he could think about was that Harry’s jeans were straining against his seatbelt and they were over half-way back to England now, so that counted as home, right?

“Harry!” Zayn pleaded in a strained voice, and Louis and Harry both jumped, guiltily pulling out their earphones.

“What?” Louis tried to palm himself as discretely as he could in his jeans and Harry was fidgeting in the corner of his vision too, so he plastered a smug grin on his face. “Can we help you, Malik?”

Zayn looked torn between amusement and disgust for a moment, before disgust won and he clenched his jaw. “Just – I can’t even deal with you two,” was all he could manage, apparently too lost for words to even attempt a full sentence. He turned to the window, pulling his beanie down over his eyes and flipping his hood up as he pressed himself as far away from the pair as he possibly could.

“Sorry,” Harry apologised. He at least had the decency to look sorry, but the paper airsickness bag in his lap sort of ruined the effect. Louis stared down at it and then back up to Harry’s flushed face before winking.

Louis patted Zayn on the shoulder in way of consolation before stretching his arms above his head and yawning theatrically. He unfastened his seatbelt and re-knotted the hoodie he had tied around his waist, at least attempting politeness before standing.

He brushed his lips against Harry’s ear as he leaned over to whisper. “Meet me in the toilet in three minutes,” he said, before squeezing past Harry. If he pressed his arse a little too close to Harry as he passed him then, well that was the airline’s fault for not making business class seats bigger.

Harry swallowed hard. His hands tightened against the armrests and he avoided Zayn’s glare as he counted in his head.

He only made it to thirty hippopotamuses before following.

**Author's Note:**

> <3  
> the title comes from the fergie song and the miley song x


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